


Miles to Go

by mimosa (Error305_Proxy)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Backstory, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:04:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Error305_Proxy/pseuds/mimosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The casual banter and the deep-seated trust between 007 and his quartermaster doesn't just develop instantaneously. This is the story of Q starting before he was Q, before he was R, and when he meets 007 for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time they meet, Q was not yet Q, not yet R, not yet anybody important. He had been testing out a prototype in the shooting range when 007 walked in, and neither spared the other a glance.

Q (or, as he was known at the time, Alex Last-Name-Redacted) emptied his clip into the target, and made a satisfied noise in the back of his throat when the screen next to him proceeded to show that all had hit dead centre.

Bond was studiously firing his gun in the lane next to him, the double-oh agents have a habit of ignoring anybody who still has a real name instead of some combination of letters and numbers as their designation.

Q ( Alex Last-Name-Redacted) had walked out of the shooting range without looking back, thinking nothing of the incident except that the new automatic targeting sight that he’s been working on seems rather successful, and that he was quite proud of himself.

 

 

The second time they met had been in medical. Q was still not-yet Q, though he had in the span of 2 months been promoted to R. Suffering from a rather nasty chemical burn due to an experiment (not his, thankfully) gone wrong, he had been poked and prodded by the staff in medical, only to be abandoned when the doors slid open and 007 walked in.

Q (then referred to as R) had rolled his eyes at the sudden attention the agent was getting. The medical intern who had been half-hearted wrapping his arm looked up at the sounds of doors opening, and promptly lost all interest in attending to Q (R).

“Ouch.” Q (R) grimaced when the intern accidentally aggravated his burn while being distracted by 007. “I can do this myself if you’d rather be elsewhere.”

“Sorry,” The brunette apologized, not sounding the least bit sorry, “I was distracted.”

“Yes I could tell.” Q (R) hissed.

“It’s just well…” the woman trailed off for a second, having the grace to look sheepish, “He’s rather dashing, isn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Q (R) replied drily and shot 007 a glare. “Go and fuss over him then, I can finish up here by myself.”

“Well…” The woman looked down at Q (R)’s arm then turned to look at the agent, “It’s just that he’s not in medical all too often and …”

“Go on,” Q (R) waved her off, taking over the bandage and starting the wrapping all over again. He heard the footsteps of the woman leaving hurriedly, then a moment later, steps approaching again.

“I told you I could handle it myself, you really _can_ go ogle at the double-oh if you’d like.” Q (R) said without looking up, he was managing quite well with the wrapping, having been used to taking care of his own injuries from lab experiments gone wrong in uni.

“Ah, but I find you much more interesting.” A deep and distinctively not female voice purred out from two steps in front of Q (R), “I remember you from the shooting range. Not a lot of none field agents manage to shoot that well.”

“Yes well.” Q (R) looked up after taking a moment to compose himself, and gestured weakly at nothing, “I’ve had training.” He doesn’t exactly know why he chose to leave out the automatic targeting part.

“Quite impressive indeed.” 007 sits down next to Q (R), “And now you’ve managed to give yourself a chemical burn.”

“I didn’t give this to myself.” Q (R) growls, though not very impressively, “Some idiot in Q branch – oh nevermind.” He gives up trying to explain the situation before he even starts, thinking that it’s not worth the trouble to fully tell the tale of the non-functional acid-shooting pen somebody had been trying to develop.

“Ah Q branch,” 007 nods as if that explained everything, “With their toys and gadgets, quite dangerous, though sometimes marginally useful.”

“Marginally?” Q (R) frowns, his toys and gadgets have saved the life of more than one agent more than once and he knows it.

“You’ll find out when you start going into the field. They’re too obsessed about getting their gadgets returned in perfect conditions, which could be annoying. But exploding pens do come in handy.”

And that was when Q (R) realized that 007 had mistaken him for a field agent. He doesn’t hold back the amused chuckle that bubbles up, and gives 007 an amused look.

“I see.” Q (R) smiles and his eyes crinkle, “I shall keep that in mind, 007.”

“Shame, really.” 007 looks Q (R) over with a predatory glace, “I avoid sleeping with people that I work with in the field, otherwise…” the agent’s tone drops low enough that the sentence does not have to be finished.

“Perhaps when you retire then.” Q (R) quips back, and stands up as he’s finished with wrapping his arm, “Or if they ever pull me off the field.” He crams as much sarcasm as he could into the last part.

“Perhaps.” 007 sounds almost wistful when Q (R) walks away without looking back.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Bond doesn’t notice the man in the lane next to him until the skinny, rather ungainly looking man has walked out of the shooting range. He spares a glance at the screen that is flashing the results of the man’s last round of shooting. Dead centre, every single shot.

Bond frowns a little before emptying his clip quickly into the target; he’d need to have a word with M about recruiting agents who don’t look like they could be blown over by a strong gust of wind. They’re starting them younger and younger these days, Bond muses to himself, that man could have hardly been over twenty by the looks of him, and looks like he belongs in a computer lab more than anywhere else.

“Brave new world,” He mutters to himself as he empties another round into the target hanging 25 meters away.  

 

The second time Bond sees the skinny field agent, he had been on his way past medical. Out of habit he threw a glance through the glass doors (usually doing so to avoid doctors trying to hunt him down for check-ups), and saw the familiar mop of black hair. His arm was being bandaged by an intern who clearly had no interest in what she was doing.

Bond doesn’t remember why he stepped into medical, which he normally avoids out of principle. The moment he stepped in, however, he was surrounded by a group of doctors and nurses alike, asking if he was doing alright and if there’s anything that needs to be looked over.

“I’m fine.” Bond scowls and manages to scare some of them into giving him a bit of space, “What’s he in for?” He nods towards the skinny man who was wincing in obvious pain.

“Chemical burn on his arm,” One of the nurses answered helpfully, though in a rather breathless tone, “There was some kind of acid involved.”

Bond watches as the man says something to the brunette bandaging him up, and the woman looks sheepishly away before abandoning him completely. The agent pushes through the lingering circle of doctors looking at him anxiously and walks towards the man sitting there trying to bandage his arm by himself.

“I told you I could handle it myself, you really can go ogle at the double-oh if you’d like.” The man drawls when Bond is standing in front of him. He doesn’t look up from what he’s doing, but the clipped tone suggests that he’s rather annoyed and shouldn’t be bothered.

“Ah, but I find you much more interesting.” Bond purrs as he stops in front of the man. The field agent looks up, and Bond nearly sighs audibly. The man’s face was too soft, too innocent. The look would be lost soon, surely after a couple of missions in the field.

They make small talk, and Bond flirts harmlessly. He tells himself again and again that he’s not trying to impress the other agent, but can’t help but share his own Q branch experience.

He hasn’t had a quartermaster in a while, not one that he has to deal with directly. Despite that, the branch has proven to be quite efficient in his last couple of missions, despite the scolding he gets when he doesn’t return his equipment.

Afterwards, Bond vaguely remembers making a remark about not sleeping with people he works with in the field. He doesn’t, as a principle, get involved with anybody who he would go into the field with. There’s too much of a chance of emotions running high, too much chance of the other person dying in front of him that Bond has learned not to. He’s had a number of conquests within medical, of course. And legal, and accounting, and even a few in Q branch, but never a field agent.

The man in front of him almost makes him want to reconsider that.

Almost.

It was only after the man leaves that Bond mentally kicks himself for not having gotten his name, or designation. That’s what he had originally intended to do. Bond can count on one hand the number of times that he’s been distracted enough by the personal in front of him that he loses sight of his original objective, he grins as he walks out of medical while the doctors start to give each other worried glances over him.

 

The third time they meet, Bond reads the little sign on the man’s desk.

“You’re R.” Bond says with a frown.

“I am.” The man nods, but doesn’t turn from where he’s looking intently at the computer screen, typing faster than any human should be able to.

“Have you been demoted to Q branch then?” Bond raises an eyebrow. It’s not unheard of for agents to be transferred to other branches if they’ve been badly injured that they can’t perform field duties anymore, or simply transferred when they’ve done something disasterous in the field. It’s not a demotion by any means, not to anyone but Bond, who lives and breathes for active missions.

“No.” The man says simply, and turns slowly, almost reluctantly, away from the computer screen to look at Bond, “I’ve always been in Q branch.”

“I thought you were a field agent.” Bond frowns slightly.

“You were wrong.” R says simply, his accent crisp and pronounced.

Tanner enters and calls Bond away to equip him for a mission before Bond can reply with anything else.

Some time in the middle of his mission, R’s voice comes through his ear piece and guides him through a particularly tricky stretch of navigation in New Delhi. The voice vanishes as soon as it appears, and if Bond dreams of a soft voice that goes with a messy head of dark hair that night, he doesn’t let his mind think too much of it when he wakes.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The third time they meet face to face, they have already defied death together. Bond shrugs when he’s berated for not bringing back his equipment, although Q (who at the moment was still R, though rumors were starting to spread that the then head of Q branch was looking to retire) had heard very clearly through the ear-piece when the gun was thrown away in frustration when 007 discovered he had ran out of bullets.

The mission was his first as R, and his first time guiding a double-oh agent all on his own. The aging Q had been standing by, of course, but had remained silent as R guided 007 expertly first through the city streets, then through the factory where the target had set up quarters.

Perhaps because his first mission had been completed with 007, Q had found the other agents to be rather easy to handle in the following missions. Where 007 had been difficult, second-guessing every command and every piece of information, and more often than not going directly against advice from Q branch, the other agents trusted Q branch to do their job properly and followed his instructions without too much push back (With the exception of 006, but then again any friend of 007 was bound to be of similar personality. Even so, Alec proved to not be nearly as difficult as 007).

By the time Q started his second mission with 007, he had already completed at least one mission with each of the agents (this was, as M later informed him, not a coincidence). Their second mission together was again, successful, and by then Q had become the head of Q branch in all but name (he was still R). The older Q has taken to being in his office for long stretches of time, often ignoring calls or requests from various agents and agencies, leaving R to deal with them as necessary. Yet he had worked for so long in Q branch that R really had no problems deflecting any questions about Q’s general well-being, and had no hesitations about delaying what was his own very inevitable promotion.

He doesn’t see Bond again until after their 5th mission together. By then Bond has grown to be less distrustful of his advice coming through his ear piece, and the two of them have worked enough times to have settled into a casual banter when things are slow. Of all places for them to meet, it was in the waiting room outside M’s office.

“Every time I see you I think you are about to waste away to nothing.” Bond says as Q steps into the waiting room. The agent had finished a mission yesterday (unguided) and is apparently now reporting in.

“Lucky for you, I am not.” If Q remembers correctly, that was the first time he had rolled his eyes in front of 007, though certainly not the first time to be exasperated.

“In the interest of protecting MI6 assets, you really should let me take you out to dinner and feed you properly.” 007 smirked and all but purred.

“I think not.” To this day 007 still tells the story of how Q had rejected him cruelly to try and guilt Q into giving him better equipment.

“Perhaps you will allow me to do other things to you then, if not feed you?” Bond’s voice drops an octave and gives Q the most suggestive look he could muster.

“Perhaps, if you’re good enough.” To this day Q adamantly maintains that his first choice to reject 007 had been the right one and his subsequent moment of weakness had been the start of his ruin (In public when talking to others, in the privacy of their bedroom, it was a completely different story).

 


	4. Chapter 4

It's not uncommon for the double-oh agents to take their pick of the MI6 staff. James knows that all the other agents have done so in the past. Even Alec, who scoffed when he saw 003 leave headquarters with a pretty blonde from medical, and had remained adamant that he would never mix work with pleasure. Alec had picked up a brunette from R&D a week later, and has not stopped since.

"But it's so bloody convenient." Alec had said when James pointed out his own hypocrisy. " And they know what we do, don't they? It's not like I have to lie to them. And most of them have been conditioned enough by the 003 and 009 that they know not to expect anything more than a night. Two, if they're particularly lucky."

James was no exception to this, and he made sure the people he dallied with knew that they were not to expect more than one night from him. Then there had been Q (who at the name was known to James as R, or Alex Last-Name-Redacted).

In all honesty, there had been such a long build-up of flirting and tension between the two of them that when it finally happened, James had been taken aback by how easy it was.

James had been out having drinks with 005 and a couple of other field agents, and had spotted the blob of messy dark hair walking into the pub. The young man was clearly scanning the place for somebody, and James had felt a flash of annoyance at the thought that the boffin was meeting up with someone else for drinks.

Then their gazes met, and it didn't take a genius to see the flash of lust on the young man's face, and the subtle but quite distinct head tilt that was the universal sign for "let's get out of here". James had hastily made his excuses to 005 (and to this day doesn't remember what his excuse was) and left enough cash on the table to cover the entire pub's tab. Only by the grace of all his training did he control his gait enough to not run out of the pub following the other man, though it was a very close thing.

Alex Last-Name-Redacted had been waiting for him while casually leaning against his car.

"Your place is closer." The boffin simply said, and slid into the car easily when James pulled open the door for him.

"Thoughtful of you." James muttered, and proceeded to ignore every single traffic light from the pub to his flat.

The sex had been good, had been fantastic, had been mind-blowing. James remember thinking at one point in the evening that it's impossible for somebody to exist who fits so perfectly with himself, who likes all the exact things in bed as he does and knows what he wants before he even thinks of it.

And then his brain decided to quit thinking altogether.

 

In hindsight, James should have known that something was bound to go wrong. He was never lucky enough to just come across a willing bed partner whose company he could enjoy without some kind of complication.

Although he wouldn't have thought that the problem would be on his end.

They met over the course of the next month, whenever James was in London. There is now a spare toothbrush sitting in James's bathroom, and a set of clothes that was too small to fit the agent. There's now a variety of Earl Grey tea stocked in his cupboard that he definitely did not buy, and several bars of chocolate that had sugar content high enough to give James diabetes just by looking at them.

And it had been good, one of the better months in James's life. On par with the time he'd spent with Tracy, with Vesper (though he reminded himself that this was different because there's no romance involved, and thus would resolvedly not end like the previous two times).

Then everything went to hell when he stepped into Q branch after a mission back from Paris (if you ask Q, he'll tell you that it was probably a turning point in their relationship. He'd then roll his eyes and tell you that double-oh agents are emotionally stunted men with all the social skills of a five-year-old boys when it comes to anything they think of as theirs).

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by Robert Frost - Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening


End file.
